


Nobody likes a clown at midnight

by ShariAruna



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, post 4x18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:49:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShariAruna/pseuds/ShariAruna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the beginning the plan was quite simple, honestly: no feelings, no attachments. In other words: <i>no trouble</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody likes a clown at midnight

At the beginning the plan was quite simple, honestly: no feelings, no attachments. In other words: _no trouble_. It was an alliance, not a relationship; it seemed easier that way. And for someone else, it probably might have been; Not for them, though. Because they are both idiots, and they have to put feelings into everything, especially where feelings don’t belong at all. Like, for example, in this. Whatever _this_ is.

When Stefan finds Rebekah in his bedroom, lying on his bed and reading one of his books (and at least it's not his journal this time), he's surprised because he thought that Willoughby had left far deeper scars, the kind that one doesn't like to show in public. 

But here she is, and he doesn't know why, or what to do about it.

So she speak first.

“I want a day off”, she says, not even bothering to look at him.

Stefan blinks.

“Alright”, he replies. “Goodbye, see you soon.”

This time Rebekah looks up and gives him a pointed look.

“With you, I mean.”

“Why?”

She doesn't answer. Maybe because she doesn't know what to say, or maybe because she doesn't want to say it.

Stefan sighs. He thinks about Elena, and Katherine, and Silas, and the cure. He thinks about the blood stock in the basement and the alcohol stock in Damon's closet.

“I can't afford a day off. How about a night?”, he offers in the end.

Rebekah smiles. 

 

They wander around for a while, the motorbike’s roar filling the silence between them, and it's nice, it really is. The empty streets, the starry night, her arms tight around him, the way she gasps lightly at every bend in, and then she laughs, because she's never been on “one of these things” before, but she quickly finds out that she loves it. 

Fuck, it's way more than nice, it's beautiful.

And then Rebekah sees something better, and she points it out for him.

“There!”, she screams. “Let's go there!”

Stefan looks up and frowns, and then he thinks to tell her to choose another place, because any other place would be better than _there_.

But he doesn't say anything, and just speeds up in that direction, because he really meant what he said to Damon: he's tired of history that keeps repeating itself. 

 

The Luna Park's old and rusty, clearly forsaken. There is the ghost smell of cotton candy and caramel apples, the scent of better times long gone.

They both like it. Decay is always fascinating to watch.

Rebekah wanders through the broken rides and the dusty stands, trying to guess what games they hosted before, and Stefan follows her slowly, occasionally expressing his opinion on the matter. 

When they reach the ferris wheel, they pretend not to see it.

“I don't really like heights”, Rebekah explains nervously.

Stefan doesn't ask. He's busy trying not to think about Elena, about broken promises and shattered hopes, and he's obviously failing.

 

“You once said you wanted the cure for me, too”, Rebekah suddenly says.

Stefan looks away from his memories and stares at her. 

“Yes”, he nods. “But it was before we knew there was only one dose of it.”

He doesn't even try to lie. What for? Rebekah's not stupid. She knows that if there was a choice to make, he would choose Elena. It's sad, yes, but.

But Rebekah says nothing more, apparently satisfied with his words, and he really, really doesn't understand what is the point of the whole thing.

 

They keep walking in silence until they reach the old, but still glorious carousel. Midnight is long past, by then, and even the moon looks tired.

Rebekah walks away from him to climb on the ride’s platform, and strokes gently the head of a wooden horse.

“Thank you”, she says. “For this night”

“You're welcome.”

And the strangest thing, Stefan realizes, is that he is grateful too.

“We're both crazy, you know that, don't you?”, he asks, more seriously than it might seem.

Rebekah laughs, then she stretches her arms towards him.

“Help me?”

Smiling, he takes her in his arms, and then, without really thinking, he kisses her.

She kisses him back, but there is something sad in her smile. As already said, she's not stupid.

“I'll remember this”, she says softly, brushing her lips against his.

And then, just like that, Stefan knows: there is some really bad news coming. And it must be about the cure.

He takes a long minute to try to figure out what, how and why, but none of these questions comes out of his mouth.

“So is this the last ride?”, he asks instead, blankly.

“Well no, you're not going to leave me here, in the middle of nowhere.”

“Rebekah...”

“Let's just go home, please.”

He could say no, not until you tell me what the hell is really going on and why you're acting like one of us is going to die, but he can't think straight, and she wouldn't answer anyway.

Perhaps the whole point of their surreal date is just that it's not going to get any easier, and, well, this is something Stefan already knows too well.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my lovely beta [waferkya](http://archiveofourown.org/users/waferkya/pseuds/waferkya) ♥


End file.
